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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28094781">It's A Miracle</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmAndFandems/pseuds/EmAndFandems'>EmAndFandems</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>jewish omens: because i said so [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chanukah, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Food, Gen, Jewish Holidays, M/M, Post-Canon, the author has feelings about maoz tzur and ineffables</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:35:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28094781</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmAndFandems/pseuds/EmAndFandems</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s silly, maybe. To get so excited over what amounts to low-level arson, just setting something on fire and then having pastries about it. But tradition is tradition and Crowley likes that Aziraphale likes it. The ritual of it, the celebration. Something about the symbolism of light in darkness, tiny flames against the winter cold. (He’ll never admit he likes it too. He’s just here for the food, and never mind that he doesn’t even like jelly.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>jewish omens: because i said so [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060331</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It's A Miracle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/5ftjewishcactus/gifts">5ftjewishcactus</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for ChanukahOmens 2020! This one's a mad scramble to catch up and uses the first 5 days' worth of prompts at once.<br/>Title obviously from Queen's "The Miracle." Hebrew translations in the endnote. Find this fic on tumblr <a href="https://lazarusemma.tumblr.com/post/637597254826541056/written-for-5ftjewishcactuss-wonderful-chanukah">here</a>!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>It’s silly, maybe. To get so excited over what amounts to low-level arson, just setting something on fire and then having pastries about it. But tradition is tradition and Crowley likes that Aziraphale likes it. The ritual of it, the celebration. Something about the symbolism of light in darkness, tiny flames against the winter cold. (He’ll never admit he likes it too. He’s just here for the food, and never mind that he doesn’t even like jelly.)</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Aziraphale holds the tip of the candle out to him and Crowley flicks it into fire, nothing profane about it, just a chemical reaction of oxygen and carbon. “Thank you,” Aziraphale says quietly, smiling, and begins the blessing. “<em>Baruch atah...”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The room brightens. An angel’s blessing is no small thing. Crowley’s feet should be aching; it shouldn’t be this easy for him to stay here, so close, and to hear these words. But he is welcome here. This is something he can have, holy though it is, because they promised this place would be their home, and so it is his. There is no scorching heat, only a gentleness, a soft warmth in his chest.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The second blessing comes to an end, <em>ba’zman hazeh,</em> and in this time everything is golden as Aziraphale touches the flame to each wick and they watch it reach hungrily for the oil; Crowley whispers, “<em>Amen,”</em> and oh, it tastes right on his tongue, isn’t that something?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“C’mon,” he says, laying a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder when the correct number of branches for tonight have been lit. “We’ve still got doughnuts from last night, haven’t we?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ooh, yes,” says Aziraphale, wiggling. He beams. “Don’t think I didn’t see you put yours back untouched, by the way.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Crowley pokes out his tongue. “<em>Sufganiyot. </em>Sticky,” he says, as though that explains everything, and leads Aziraphale away from the table and towards the kitchen. “Are you going to sing again?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know the words as well as I do, and don’t even try to pretend otherwise.” Aziraphale prods his arm. “Sing with me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He does know the words. He ought to, as resident <em>tzar ham’nabeach,</em> as audience to a divine <em>shir mizmor; </em>Crowley can recall the events of <em>Maoz Tzur</em> as clearly as Aziraphale can, and so the lyrics aren’t difficult to call to mind. But he likes to hear Aziraphale sing it. “You do it better,” he says, “all that heavenly choir practice.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Aziraphale hides a smile unsuccessfully. “Tomorrow night, then,” he decides, and begins to sing as he fetches the doughnuts and dreidels, as the <em>chanukiah</em> flickers familiar shadows on the wall, spilling light into the street through the window, proclaiming: <em>A great miracle happened here. Here and now and then and there, in those times as in these, for us as well as them.</em> Every year past the end of the world is a miracle. Every day spent together is a miracle.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Not all miracles are flashy: small jugs outlasting all hope, seas splitting open, columns of flame in the desert night. Sometimes a miracle is something quieter. An unexpected victory against unassailable odds. One hand in another. The promise of tomorrow.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><i>Baruch atah...</i> - “blessed are You,” the start of a blessing, in this case that which is said before lighting the menorah<br/><i>Ba’zman hazeh</i> - “in this time,” the last words of the second blessing said before lighting the menorah<br/><i>Amen</i> - yes this is just amen which even non-Hebrew speakers know but I think it’s worth pointing out that the Hebrew root for the word means “faith”<br/><i>Sufganiyot</i> - jelly doughnuts, a Chanukah staple<br/><i>Tzar ham’nabeach</i> - “the blaspheming foe,” part of the lyrics to Maoz Tzur (see below)<br/><i>Shir mizmor</i> - “a song of hymn,” from the following line of Maoz Tzur<br/><i>Maoz Tzur</i> - a Chanukah song typically sung after lighting the menorah which celebrates victory over a succession of oppressors throughout ancient Jewish stories.<br/><i>Chanukiah</i> - the more technically correct term for the menorah lit on Chanukah, with 9 branches and not the 7 of the Temple’s menorah<br/>(Not quite Hebrew but worth mentioning: <i>A great miracle happened here</i> is a translation of the slogan <i>Nes Gadol Haya Po,</i> which is what the letters on a dreidel stand for, as a reminder of the Chanukah story. Also, <i>in those times as in these</i> is a vague translation of part of the second blessing as mentioned above.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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